Curt Hinkle

The Ten Commandments

[If you have yet to read The Parable of the Benevolent King, you may want to do so first]

I remember the day I received my first Bible. It was a leather-bound King James Version of the Bible, complete with my name written on the cover in gold letters. It was a proud moment when I stood in front of the Church to receive my Bible. Along with it, I received a gold “chain” bookmark inscribed with the Ten Commandments. As a third-grader, attempts to read my new Bible usually resulted in me playing with that smooth, shiny bookmark. I can remember the feeling today, decades later. Though I didn’t read much, I certainly became “familiar” with the Ten Commandments.

Think about the process of Yahweh, the benevolent King, redeeming a people from slavery, where they acquired an identity apart from Him. Their identity and entire being were shaped by their bondage to the Egyptian empire and the worship of its gods. When Yahweh redeemed these people, he took them out to the middle of nowhere, where they had no land and no social identity. He was remaking these people, His people.

In the Sinai desert, about a year after their rescue, God gave the people instructions we know as the Ten Commandments.* These were the first of many covenant commands. We think of them as laws. To us, law conjures “right/wrong” thinking. If we obey the law (or don’t get caught), all is well. If we are disobedient (and get caught), we pay the consequences. It fits our Western judicial thinking. What if that wasn’t God’s intent?

I will take you as my own people, and I will be your God. (Exodus 6:6-7)

For this to be true – for Yahweh to be the people’s God, a few things needed to be true. He was the one true God, there were no others. Period. He was sovereign. Period. They didn’t need nor should they make images. Their experience with the Egyptian “gods” included images of those gods, both in and out of temples. These foreign gods were tied to time and space.

Yahweh transcends time and space

So, for Yahweh to be the people’s God, images were not to be utilized in their attempts to understand him. They were an unnecessary distraction. Images, created by human hands, usurp Yahweh’s sovereign role as the creator God. The people needed to know, needed to discover that they were created in his image and not the other way around.

This reminds me of the early 20th-century discoveries of “untouched” civilizations on remote islands of the Pacific. It was an anthropologist’s dream! They discovered a striking similarity between these previously unknown societies – they all worshipped some form of God, and that god resembled themselves. They had created God in their own image. Anthropologists refer to such societies as “totem societies.”

These newly freed people needed to understand what it meant to be bearers of His image. The old identity as slaves was past, dead, and a new identity as Yahweh’s image-bearers was being formed. He was remaking the people. New creation. Consistent with God’s’ call of Abraham (see On Earth as in Heaven), they were being reshaped to mirror Yahweh’s character to the nations, the Hebrews’ original mission. Not only a new identity but a new vocation.

Now, if you will carefully listen to me and keep my covenant, you will be my own possession out of all the peoples, although the whole earth is mine, and you will be my kingdom of priests and my holy nation. (Exodus 19:5-6, CSB)

As a kingdom of priests, they were to be ambassadors of sorts. That’s why they were to worship only the one true God. They were not only to mirror His character to the nations but also to fellow image-bearers. That’s why things like murder, adultery, lying, stealing, and coveting are so damaging – they tear apart relationships, dehumanize others, and violate the dignity of those created in God’s image.

It becomes evident that the Ten Commandments aren’t exhaustive, even with the additional 603 that the Pharisees tried to keep and enforce. They are primarily descriptive, not prescriptive. They describe our relationship to the one true sovereign God and with His creation, including fellow image-bearers. When we see them primarily as prescriptive, we are ripe to becoming pharisaical.

* It’s important that we grasp the difference between torah and “the Torah.” The Israelites came to refer to the Ten Commandments and the subsequent 603 covenant commands as “torah.” Torah literally means instruction. As said above, these laws, these instructions represented the way that the people of Yahweh’s communal identity, story, and values were being reshaped and recreated. Remember that God’s redemption and restoration project was one of recreation. Formal “Torah” usually represented the Pentateuch, the first 5 books of the Hebrew Scriptures, our Old Testament.

As Christians think about the Old Testament law (torah), we should remember that according to Jesus, a primary facet of torah was to shape people to love God wholeheartedly and to love their neighbors as themselves (Matt. 22:35-40).

The Parable of the Benevolent King

Once upon a time, long ago, in a land where mist settled in the meadows and the sun filtered through ancient oaks, there reigned a king unlike any other. His name was Aldemar the Benevolent, and though his crown was gold and his scepter carved from silver and inlaid with jewels, it was his heart, not his wealth, that made him beloved. Tales of his kindness traveled far beyond the kingdom’s borders — stories of a king who walked the village streets talking with the common folk, a king whose hands lifted burdens rather than added to them.

In Aldemar’s kingdom, there was a place for all. The castle gates were never barred, save in times of danger, and even then, emissaries were sent to guide the lost to safety. His subjects were not mere vassals but partners in building a kingdom where justice, mercy, and love flourished.

The scribes in Aldemar’s court labored not merely to copy laws or record taxes but to pen letters of encouragement to distant villages, chronicling the king’s mercies and sending words of hope to the lowly. They preserved not just royal decrees but stories of kindness done in secret to remind the land that even the smallest gesture was part of the kingdom’s ethos.

Farmers and gardeners tilled the soil not only to produce harvests for the tables but to ensure beauty flourished throughout the land. In Aldemar’s realm, gardens were not just for show but for refuge — places where the weary could sit, smell the fragrances, and know peace.

The healers, trained in herbs and salves, walked the roads beside the peasants, carrying bandages, warm hands, and listening ears. In Aldemar’s mind, healing was not just the mending of wounds but restoring dignity, so the healers gave both.

The knights were formidable, but their first loyalty was not to conquest but to the protection of the vulnerable. Each knight swore an oath to defend the weak, to stand in the gap between danger and the defenseless, and to ensure that no cry for help went unheard.

Cooks, weavers, and smiths understood their work to be sacred. A meal offered with joy, a cloak stitched with care, a plow forged to last — each was an offering, a gift that built the kingdom. The king taught them to see that even the unnoticed labor, when done in love, added to the strength of the realm.

Even the children had their role. They carried garlands of flowers to new arrivals at the gates, reminding all who entered that they were welcome, not because of what they could do, but because of who they were — beloved by the king.

People clamored to enter the kingdom…

Beyond the borders of Aldemar’s reign lay kingdoms ruled by greed, fear, and ambition. In those lands, taxes crushed the poor, soldiers enforced the whims of selfish lords, and kindness was mistaken for weakness. News of Aldemar’s kingdom was like a beacon shining in the gloom.

Travelers outside the kingdom spoke of a king who knew his people by name, who sat with beggars, who wept with widows, who offered justice tempered with mercy.

Word spread that in Aldemar’s realm, one was not only provided for but cherished. Pilgrims crossed deserts, forded rivers, and braved robbers to reach his gates. When they arrived, they found themselves welcomed not as strangers but as long-lost family. King Aldemar believed that every soul bore the image of the Divine, and to mistreat one was to wound heaven itself.

Some chose to leave…

Yet, not all who entered remained. There were some who could not abide Aldemar’s ways. They were those who desired power for themselves — who longed to sit above others rather than beside them. In a kingdom where all served one another, there was no place for those who sought to hoard wealth, status, or control.

Some chafed at the king’s mercy. They demanded harsher punishments for those who failed, forgetting that they, too, had stumbled upon their arrival. They desired a kingdom where strength meant dominance, not gentleness. To them, Aldemar’s strengths of kindness and humility were seen as weaknesses. So they left, seeking thrones of their own.

There were others — not wicked, but restless. The call of distant lands, the lure of personal glory, or the simple fear that such goodness was too good to be true, led them away. They doubted that a kingdom built on love could endure in a world so harsh, so they sought fortunes elsewhere, mistaking freedom for isolation.

A kingdom still open…

Even for those who left, Aldemar never shut the gate. His knights stood ready to guide the lost home. His healers kept salves for wounds inflicted in the wild lands. His children wove garlands anew for prodigals who found their way back. And the King, each night, stood on the highest tower, lantern in hand, scanning the horizon for the shadow of a returning wanderer. For in Aldemar’s kingdom, no one was beyond welcome. No one was beyond hope.

The light continues to shine in the kingdom of Aldemar the Benevolent. And even today, the gates stand open for any who would come.

A postscript: Etymology and meaning of the fictional name, Aldemar (not tied to any historical figure). Aldemar has roots that loosely combine elements from Old Germanic languages. “Alde” can relate to old or wise, emphasizing a sense of enduring wisdom. “Mar” could stem from elements meaning fame, greatness, or renown. Together, Aldemar could be interpreted as “renowned for wisdom” or “famous ruler” — a fitting name for a king whose greatness is rooted not in power, but in his kindness and discernment.

Sabbath, Part Deux

Our journey toward a better understanding of the kingdom of God gave us a glimpse of the benevolence of our Divine King, Yahweh. We discovered in his benevolence Yahweh gifted the long-enslaved Israelites with much-needed rest, which we know as Sabbath. It was clearly a gift from God that was later formalized as one of the Ten Commandments. Because it was one of the “Ten Words” (as the commandments are known in Judaism), I wondered…

Do we tend to view the sabbath as a command only and miss the gift?

A story from experience. An “expectation” of the organization I have been part of for 50 years is that staff take one day a month of sabbath for rejuvenation. More than once, as a trainer of new staff, the question of what that day could/should look like would surface. I would usually suggest they poll several seasoned staff people to see how they utilized the day-a-month sabbath. Invariably, the new staff folks reported back that they could not find staff veterans who sabbathed with any regularity.

So I interviewed several people in corporate mid-management, asking, “If your company provided you with the opportunity to schedule a day a month to do nothing, would you take it?” The resounding response was, Yes!” One person even said they’d schedule the full year immediately.

If Sabbath is a gift, then why do we have such a hard time being with the Giver? Maybe that’s part of the issue – we don’t know how to be with the Giver. Before my quasi-retirement, I did a 48-hour silent retreat twice a year at Pacem in Terris, a retreat center near me. The retreat center’s instructions were to bring only my Bible and journal. I recall with fondness 20 years of such retreats. What I don’t recall are specific ways I heard from God. I just enjoyed not working,* reading scripture, and talking with God as I read or went for walks in the woods.

But mostly, I just rested.

The pastor who put me onto Pacem in Terris recommended a 48-hour, two-night retreat. He told me there was a good chance I might sleep a chunk of the first day (which sometimes was true). As I began to understand sabbath, I began to realize that it is simply regular rest from work. Remember that sabbath was a gift of rest to the Israelites, who had likely slaved seven days a week their entire working lives.

So, I wonder, why don’t we see sabbath rest as a gift? Some thoughts…

I suspect one reason is the way we read the fourth commandment: Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy… and the way it has been taught to us. Our eyes go to two words – capital “S” Sabbath, giving it weight and importance. True as that is, we mustn’t forget (“remember?”) that sabbath, at its core, means rest. God, our creator, knows us and knows us well. We need regular rest.

I also suspect the word holy leads to some confusion. For many of us, holy has some super-spiritual connotation. Thus, we view sabbath rest as something deeply spiritual that is beyond us, so we don’t sabbath. Holy simply means to set apart. In twenty-first-century thinking, it means setting aside days of rest and honoring them. To the young people that I mentor, I tell them to calendar their days of rest/solitude a year out and protect those dates. (I’m fully aware that adjustments might need to take place, but adjust ≠ cancel.)

“I don’t know what to do” is one of the big reasons I hear why people don’t set aside and keep days of sabbath. “Doing” – the great Achille’s heal for Western Christians! About 30 years ago, I began to realize that I’m a human being, not a human doing. Rest means not doing. When we block out times of solitude, we just want to rest and be with God. It’s a hard shift to make, but a shift that can only happen if we protect times of sabbath. What do we usually need rest from? Doing!

We are human beings not human doings

Recently, a young man I mentor who ministers as a profession asked me a great question: “What do you know now that you wished you would have known 30 years ago.” My immediate response: “I wished I would have known that it’s not about me.” One of the main reasons given to me for not taking sabbath rest is one of time. “I’m too busy and don’t have time. I’ll sabbath when I get all caught up.” Or, “There’s too much good work to be done, taking days away from God’s calling feels unproductive.” Or, I often hear a sense of guilt, that sabbath rest feels selfish.

In my estimation, if we get our worth from what we do, then sabbath rest will be difficult for us. If we get our worth from what we do, then we will tend to overestimate our importance in God’s kingdom and it becomes about us. God is good at what he does – being the King of the universe and all. I don’t think sabbath rest is just a command; it’s a statement that our Divine King knows what we need better than we do.

We must remember that Sabbath is a gift from the King to his subjects. Jesus reminded the religious leaders of that…

The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath (Mark 2:27)

* One of the things I learned during my times at Pacem in Terris: I bring a small pad with me to jot down things that I need to do once I get back. That way, I have them captured on paper and can ignore them throughout my time of solitude, knowing I can address them when I get home. Interestingly, I rarely ever look at the pad when I get home!

Sabbath

Years ago, when I was in the corporate world, I had a boss, Bob, who I would rank as my best corporate boss ever. What made him best? First of all, he was very good at what he did. He was known nationally throughout the industry. More importantly, Bob was a man of character.

I remember once when we had a production mistake that required someone on the construction site early Monday morning. Bob had me fly Sunday with no specific instructions. I quickly assessed the situation and had the wrongly-built parts on a truck headed back to the factory (which, fortunately, was 10 miles away). The parts were revised and returned to the construction site by the next morning. The customer was a little surprised when I prescribed the fix without discussing with them who was going to pay.

As I said, Bob was a man of character. I learned from him that we always fix the problem at hand and perform an autopsy later. So that’s what I did. After the prescribed fix was in process, I found myself in the customer’s corporate offices, entering a conference room where I was outnumbered by far. In typical corporate adversarial thinking, the meeting participants were poised, ready to assess blame. Instead, we did a non-adversarial autopsy (I had learned from Bob) and discovered that we built exactly what they specified – what they specified was not what they really wanted. I have many similar stories seeing the benefits of Bob’s non-adversarial approach to doing business.

As a man of character, Bob was also a benevolent boss. A corporate C-suite decision was made that relocated my job from Minnesota to Memphis. With four kids in school, the prospect was challenging, to say the least. His benevolence came through in ways we could not have imagined. He even arranged for my sophomore daughter and me to travel to Memphis to help her get a feel for the area. I was able to get her connected with a Young Life leader and some high school girls. As I write this, I am flooded with great memories of Bob modeling character and benevolence. It brings tears to my eyes.

I don’t know if we fully understand what a benevolent king God is. I was recently reading Psalm 113. It is part of a grouping of Psalms frequently labelled the Passover Hallel (Hallelujah) or the Egyptian Hallel. The Hallel Psalms contain praise to the benevolent Divine King, Yahweh, for rescuing their Israelite ancestors from Egyptian slavery. How benevolent was their view of God?

Who is like the Lord our God,
the One who sits enthroned on high,
who stoops down to look
on the heavens and the earth?

He raises the poor from the dust
and lifts the needy from the ash heap;
he seats them with princes… (Psalm 113:5-8)

Only a benevolent king would go find the poor and needy in the dust and ashes and bring them into the palace to seat them with the princes. As I think about this, I wonder how we might respond if we actually witnessed such benevolence. Especially if we were a prince (or princess) with inherited or earned station. The older prodigal brother comes to mind.

In the last post, Wilderness, we wondered if part of the wilderness experience was to provide the Hebrews with the opportunity to get to know Yahweh, the Divine King who rescued them from Pharaoh (who thought he was a divine king). Think about this: For hundreds of years, all they knew was a malevolent, harsh king. Did they even know what benevolence looked like? They would soon find out.

Their first introduction to God’s benevolence was his very presence. Pharaoh was a distant king, making decisions from a distance that affected the people. When the C-suite executives made the decision that we should uproot our family, they were not present during the resulting difficulties we experienced. Bob was. God welcomed his people out of captivity through the theophanies of pillars of fire or cloud. He was present. He “walked with them.” It reminds me of life in the Garden before the Fall, when things were “on earth as in heaven” with God present and walking with his created humans.

Secondly, Yahweh ensured they had a supply of water (in the wilderness!) and sufficient food. If you recall, he provided manna each morning and quail each evening. In the morning, there was a layer of dew around the camp. When the dew was gone, thin flakes like frost on the ground appeared on the desert floor. The people of Israel called the bread manna. Manna sounds like the Hebrew for What is it? (Exodus 16:15). It was white like coriander seed and tasted like wafers made with honey.

The people were instructed to gather exactly what they needed for the day (think, “Give us this day our daily bread”). Gathering more than needed led to spoilage and maggots. Everyone had enough…

Moses: “Everyone is to gather as much as they need. Take an omer (~ 3# or 1.4 kg) for each person you have in your tent.” The Israelites did as they were told; some gathered much, some little… the one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little. Everyone had gathered just as much as they needed. (Exodus 16:16-18)

Not only did the benevolent Divine King provide sustenance, but he also provided rest. Consider that for hundreds of years, the enslaved Israelites were likely worked by the slave-masters seven days a week. I cannot imagine the malevolent king of Egypt tolerating a weekly 15% labor loss. It wouldn’t be good for economics and project management. So…seven days a week.

At the same time God provided his rescued people with sustenance, he provided rest. He told them he would provide the bread (manna) six days a week. On the sixth day, they could gather enough manna for two days so they could rest on the seventh day – a day of sabbath. What a gift! A day each week to rest and do nothing! Moses reminded the people that it was a gift…

Bear in mind that the Lord has given you the Sabbath; that is why on the sixth day he gives you bread for two days. (Exodus 16:29)

Sabbath is a biblical principle rooted in rest, worship, and trust in God. It originates from Genesis 2:2-3, where God rested on the seventh day after creating the world, setting a pattern for humanity to follow. I find no biblical evidence of “sabbath-keeping” prior to this gifting to the rescued people. Keep in mind that the gift of sabbath was given before it was formalized as one of the Ten Commandments. This might be something of significance for us 21st-century Christ-followers to pay attention to.

I wonder, do we tend to view the sabbath as a command only and miss the gift?

Wilderness…

What comes to mind when you think of wilderness? More specifically, when “wilderness” pops up in scripture? Knowing the arid climate of the Middle East, I always pictured an Arizona-type wilderness with limited, brushy vegetation. That is until a few years ago when I saw the wilderness between Jerusalem and the Dead Sea in person. Nothing! Just hills of rocks and dirt – no vegetation.

The photo below is of the Wadi Qelt and the Monastery of St. George of Choziba. There is greenery in the wadi but nothing on the hills. Just rocks and dirt.

We last left the million or so newly freed Hebrew slaves in the Sinai Wilderness. I now imagine a different kind of wilderness than I used to envision. I wonder what the view looked like to this large group of people who, even though they were now freed, had left the Nile Valley for this? I think of my parents in their mid-20s. Wanting familial autonomy, they left the rich wheat-farming soil of the Red River Valley (the Lake Agassiz silt deposits) of Northeast North Dakota for the rock-infested sand, gravel, clay, and peat loam of Central Minnesota to become dairy farmers. Wrestling with some depression, I’m sure, my dad said he would end up at the far end of the farm periodically to lament the decision for several hours, then go back to work. (I suspect “lament” was a German farmer’s way of describing an afternoon crying session!)

The good news for these people who found themselves in the wilderness? They were free! But what next? God would use Moses to lead this mass of people about 250-300 miles (400-480 km), as the crow flies, to their ultimate destination, Canaan. It was a long trek, but even a crowd their size could possibly make the trip in about 40 days. Spoiler alert: It took 40 years! Why? There were a myriad of reasons, including some disobedience and stubbornness on the part of the people that delayed the trek. But 40 years? Seems a little extreme to us.

We should probably consider time from God’s perspective. We live in a culture where time is of the essence. We are usually more interested in the arrival than the journey. As I write this, my wife and I are in Arizona for three weeks. Our original intent was to drive the 1700 miles (2735 km) for a four-week stay. Some family stuff required us to shorten our trip by a week, so we decided flying was more prudent. We arrived quickly, but missed out on the journey across the prairies and the mountains and listening to a couple audiobooks. We don’t have to spend much time in the biblical narrative to discover that Yahweh is a God who is comfortable with lengthy processes. We don’t like that! We want to arrive – now!

Not so with God. Maybe not with Moses, either. For Moses, 40-year increments were apparently par for the course. According to Stephen in the sermon that led to his death (see Acts 7), it was after Moses had been an Egyptian Prince for 40 years that he decided to check in on his fellow Israelites, which led to a 40-year exile in Midian. At 80, God called him to help with the rescue of His people (Exodus 7:7). Apparently retirement isn’t a biblical concept 🙂. Forty years later, he died at 120 years old (Acts 7), having never personally entered Canaan. Moses is credited for a prayer included in the Psalter…

A thousand years in your sight
are like a day that has just gone by,
or like a watch in the night. (Psalm 90:5)

In God’s economy, time is not of the essence that we deem it should be! For Him, it seems that the process is as important (if not more) than the outcome.

As I mentioned in the last post, I wonder how well the rescued Hebrews knew Yahweh, the God who rescued them. Likely, there was some oral tradition about the God of Joseph, their first ancestor in Egypt. They knew about this God, but they didn’t seem to have first-hand experience with him. Keep in mind that Moses needed a primer regarding this God whose name he didn’t seem to know.

“Wilderness” is a powerful theme in the Bible – both literally and metaphorically. “The wilderness” often represented a place of testing, transformation, learning dependence on God, and/or preparation for a greater calling. Moses spent 40 years in Midian, in the Saudi Arabian desert, in “preparation” for leading the Israelites out of Egypt. Other wilderness examples found in scripture…

Elijah – Fled to the wilderness after confronting King Ahab and Queen Jezebel. He was fed by ravens at the Brook Cherith (1 Kings 17:2-6) and later encountered God at Mount Horeb after journeying through the wilderness for 40 days (1 Kings 19:4-8).
John the Baptist – Lived in the wilderness, clothed in camel’s hair and eating locusts and wild honey, preparing the way for Jesus and calling people to repentance (Matthew 3:1-4).
Jesus – Spent 40 days in the wilderness fasting, then being tempted by the satan before beginning His public ministry (Matthew 4:1-11, Luke 4:1-13).
The Apostle Paul – After his conversion, he spent time in the wilderness (Arabia) before beginning his ministry. I imagine he poured over the Hebrew Scriptures that he knew so well, rediscovering the God of Jesus (Galatians 1:15-17).

So why 40 years of trekking around the Sinai Peninsula and Arabia? Could it be that God needed to prepare the Hebrews for the upcoming years under His kingship? They had no experience with a benevolent king. It was out of God’s fidelity that Israel was delivered. But what did they know about God’s fidelity? They had no experience following, only being driven. This was all new territory for them (literally and figuratively). If Yahweh was going to be their God, they had to learn what it meant to be his people (Exodus 6:6-7a).

We can’t underestimate the value of the wilderness. In God’s economy, in his kingdom, the wilderness experiences/processes can be transformative. It’s something we must be careful not to circumvent.

Exodus…

At the end of the previous post, The Great Egress, the million or so Hebrew slaves were headed toward safety on the East side of the Red Sea (Sea of Reeds?). Pharaoh’s stubbornness had required “acts of God,” natural catastrophes to which he finally succumbed. He succumbed to the reality that Yahweh was sovereign and he, in fact, was not. His arrogance and stubbornness had a direct effect on his people, his subjects, to the point that they urged the Hebrews to leave as quickly as possible, taking booty with them (Exodus 12:33). As we read world history, we see time and again “sovereign” kings confused as to who exactly is sovereign. And their subjects bear the brunt of their misguided autocracy.

This rescue from Egypt is known as The Exodus, the primary event of the Hebrew Scriptures’ redemptive history. It was how God fulfilled his promise to the patriarchs (Abraham et al.) of their role in the world and his restoration project. They would become a great nation and a blessing to the rest of the world. It’s also the root of the annual Passover festival, a celebration of God’s justice and mercy (hesed).

As the Hebrews reached safety, they broke into song, praising Yahweh for the rescue. Typical of many Psalms, the song recapped the events of the rescue, praised God for his salvation and redemption from the Egyptians, and acknowledged God’s sovereignty as a faithful God and king (see Exodus 15). A particularly powerful acknowledgment can be found in the middle of the song…

Who among the gods
    is like you, Lord?
Who is like you—
    majestic in holiness,
awesome in glory,
    working wonders?

These are words of a kingdom people acknowledging the majesty of their (newfound?) king. These are words from a people who are grasping the significance that they are subjects of a King of kings. These are words of a people that God will involve in his restoration project. These are the words of a people who were beginning to understand the God who sent this message to them while they were still in captivity…

“I am the Lord [Yahweh], and I will bring you out from under the yoke of the Egyptians. I will free you from being slaves to them, and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with mighty acts of judgment. I will take you as my own people, and I will be your God.” (Exodus 6:6-7)

Their God, Yahweh, was with them.

How was he with them? God manifested himself as a cloud pillar during the day and a pillar of fire at night. It’s how God led them and comforted them with his presence. The pillars were visible expressions of an invisible God. We must not miss the significance that the great Jewish theologian turned Christian Apostle, Paul, used a similar reference in his letter to the Church of Colossae…

Now Christ is the visible expression of the invisible God. (Colossians 1:15, JB Phillips)

God’s presence with the people was a big deal. In the beginning, when things were “on earth as in heaven,” God walked with his created humanity. When the humans disobeyed God and desired to be like Him, the relationship with God was broken. This is why we say we live in a broken world.

Through Moses and the pillars, Yahweh was leading his people home – home being Canaan, the land where they lived before the Joseph debacle. Canaan was the land promised to the original people called to be kingdom ambassadors – Abraham and his descendants…

“I will establish my covenant as an everlasting covenant between me and you and your descendants after you for the generations to come, to be your God and the God of your descendants after you. The whole land of Canaan, where you now reside as a foreigner, I will give as an everlasting possession to you and your descendants after you; and I will be their God.” (Genesis 17:7-8)

These million or so freed slaves were descendants of Abraham. The covenant applied to them, though likely most didn’t know of Yahweh or the covenant. Keep in mind that when Moses conversed with God through the burning bush, he didn’t know Him or his name, either. It would be fair to assume he was unfamiliar with the Abrahamic covenant as well.

See where this is going? These former slaves, dependents of the people God chose to be “blessed to be a blessing,” were likely unaware of their calling. A million or so people. As mentioned above, regarding the song they sang, they were probably just starting to get a glimpse of this God that rescued them. They had trusted Him thus far, it seems, but that doesn’t mean they knew him. Likely, they were simply trusting the God of Moses (which is pretty significant trust, by the way). They were just beginning to know and trust the creator God.

Yahweh was their God, and they were his people. But they had yet to learn what that actually looked like!

The Great Egress…

In the late 1800s, Phineas Taylor (P.T.) Barnum, known for his flamboyant and often deceptive marketing, decided to create a “memorable” experience for his audience. He placed a sign at one of his shows that read “This Way to the Great Egress.” The sign was placed at an exit, but it was cleverly designed to confuse and disorient the audience. People, thinking they were being directed to something important or special, followed the sign, only to find themselves outside the venue.

It could be folklore, but it’s a great story anyway. Here’s a little-known fact. I’m related to P.T. Barnum. Yes, the greatest showman! I don’t know how I’m related, but I remember meeting an “Aunt Barnum” years ago.

We have been working our way through a “working document” I created for myself – created to help me understand, capsulate, and articulate the kingdom of God that was central to Jesus’ message. Two-thirds of Jesus’ parables were about the kingdom of God – what it’s like and how things work in the kingdom. Understanding the nature of the kingdom is critical to understanding who God is as the King.

Given interruptions related to the holidays, etc., I suppose a brief recap of the ground we’ve covered thus far is necessary. We started with the creation of the universe, God’s’ kingdom – the heavens and earth. Humans were given “say” over God’s earth as stewards and caretakers. At the time of creation, it wouldn’t be a leap to assume God’s will (reign) was on earth as in heaven. Then distraction! The humans, God’s image-bearers, became distracted by the satan’s lure for them to be like God. Adam and Eve lost sight of their calling and their action created fissures in the kingdom on Earth.

God embarked on a project of new creation. He desired to continue to use his created image-bearers to be stewards and workers in the restoration or new creation project. He selected Abram (who became Abraham) to father a people who would serve His purposes in the larger plan of restoration. They were chosen to be his kingdom people, to be a blessing to the rest of the world – ambassadors of sorts.

Abraham’s descendants got distracted, though (see Joseph, Thermuthis, and Moses as well as Moses), ending up in Egyptian captivity for 400 years as slaves. Abraham’s descendants, the kingdom people, found themselves working seven days a week under brutality and brutal conditions. Tyrannical kings don’t get to abuse image-bearers and get away with it. Yahweh, the Lord of lords and King of kings had enough and stepped in to rescue his people. He chose Moses to be the leader who would confront Pharaoh, his adoptive father, and lead the people to freedom.

We know the story. God sent Moses, accompanied by his brother Aaron, with a message for Pharaoh, the king of Egypt…

Yahweh, the God of the Hebrews, has sent me to say to you: Let my people go so that they may worship me in the wilderness.

Pharaoh was not about to lose his workforce, so he refused. The refusal led to a plague on the nation and its people. Pharaoh’s response to the plague? He dug in his heels (his heart was hardened) with more refusal, leading to more plagues – ten to be exact. In the final plague, God sent an angel of death to all firstborns (humans and animals alike), a judgment on Pharaoh, his people, and their gods.

On the night of the plague of the firstborn, God gave the Hebrews traveling instructions: Kill and roast a young lamb, smear some of its blood on the sides and tops of the doorframes of the houses where they gathered to eat the lamb; no time for the bread to rise, so no yeast. Eat the meal with sandals on and staff in hand, ready to move. Seeing the blood on the doors, the angel of death would “pass over” the house, sparing firstborns.

It was the Lord’s Passover (Exodus 12:11). Passover has been celebrated annually by people of Hebrew descent, Abraham’s descendants, ever since – approximately 3500 years.

Pharaoh ultimately let the kingdom people go, though he changed his mind, leading to the Red Sea fiasco that was the demise of his troops. The whole thing is known as the Exodus.

Exodus | ˈeksədəs |: a mass departure of people, especially emigrants

It was a great exodus, most central in the story of God.* I suppose it could also be called the great egress (the action of going out of or leaving a place), but I doubt it will catch on. Through the Exodus, God revealed that His project of renewal would continue its advancement toward “on earth as in heaven.” God’s kingdom people would remain commissioned to bring blessings and shine as a light to the world. The Exodus people were to be his…

Ambassadors!

* An example of the centrality of the Exodus story is the Psalms of Hallel (Psalms 113-118), also called the Egyptian Hallel, sung during the annual Passover meal (seder).

My Sister, the Good Neighbor…

My sister, Jackie Chattopadhyay, left the earth on December 11, 2024, after a 35-year battle with, among other medical challenges, a debilitating autoimmune deficiency that left her confined to a wheelchair and a motorized scooter for the past 20 or so years. A memorial service was held to celebrate her life on January 4, 2025, at the Church that gave her life and purpose, Nativity Lutheran in St. Anthony Village, MN.

I had the privilege to speak at the service. Her son, Rob, asked if I would share a few stories from our childhood. Jackie was one year older than me (actually, 360 days) so we had a lot of experiences together.

So, I shared a couple of stories. I talked about a time when we were three and four, respectively. Our twenty-something parents were occupied running a dairy farm, often leaving us to our own demises and “demise” we did. One day, it was decided (I assume by my sister) that we should bathe in a five-gallon pail filled with used oil from the farm tractors, starting with the dunking of my head in the pail to wash my hair, I presume. It got some laughs, especially from her grandkids.

And I told the story of how we, unplanned, gloriously tag-teamed the humiliation of our bus’s resident bully. As a seventh-grader, the event proved that I apparently didn’t understand that discretion is the better part of valor. The event evidenced my sister’s propensity toward justice. The story was laced with a fair amount of humor that’s nearly impossible to capture in a blog post, so I won’t try (though you can hear it here, starting at 18:00 minutes).

Jackie with her family (captured by my daughter, Melissa)

When Rob asked me to share some stories, I told him that I really wanted to talk about my sister as a faithful worker in God’s Kingdom.

As I pondered what I might share at my sister’s memorial service, Jesus’ Parable of the Bags of Gold, recorded by his disciple, Matthew, kept resonating in my mind. It’s one of many parables Jesus told describing the kingdom of God. The parable is a story of a man who was leaving on a journey. While gone, he entrusted his wealth to three servants. He gave the first servant five bags of gold, the second received two bags, and the third a single bag.

The man gave no instructions and went away for a long, undetermined length of time.

Upon his return, the master settled accounts with his servants. The servants given five and two bags of gold apparently invested what was trusted to them, doubling their investment. The third did nothing.

The parable reminds me of a statement I once heard a pastor say, “Two questions will be asked of us at the end of our life: What did you do with my Son, Jesus Christ? And what did you do with the rest of your life?”

We live in a culture that focuses on size – the number of bags of gold we possess, ROI, etc. We live in a culture that tends to lift up, even deify, those with natural and physical abilities. But what of people whose medical challenges strap them physically?

In our culture, such limitations can invalidate one’s role in society. Invalidate and invalid come from the same root. My sister and I talked about this once as we discussed our father’s lot in life, becoming an “invalid” after he suffered a debilitating stroke.

In terms of Jesus’ parable, it might seem that Jackie got a smaller bag of gold, given her medical challenges. That misses the point. What Jackie did with God’s Son, Jesus Christ, we knew – she followed Him. What she did for the rest of her life is inspirational.

Jesus distilled all of Scripture down to two statements: Love God and love neighbor.

Jimmy Carter often told the story of a Cuban immigrant pastor named Eloy Cruz, a man who focused his life and ministry on Puerto Rican immigrants to the United States, people who were among the poorest of the poor. President Carter asked his friend Elroy about the secret of his success as a pastor. Cruz responded in humility, “Señor Jimmy, we only need to have two loves in life—for God and for the person who happens to be standing in front of us at any time.”

My sister had an innate ability to see the person standing in front of her at any time as her neighbor.

When I traveled for my engineering/marketing job years ago, I would run into people in airports who knew my sister (it happened more than once!). It became evident in conversations that these were not mere acquaintances. These were people to whom Jackie had been a neighbor. When my dad was in ICU after his stroke 25 years ago, I remember Jackie always seemed to know someone in the family waiting room. Again, not just acquaintances, but people to whom she had been a neighbor. As I shared at her Memorial Service, it occurred to me that there were people on the other side of the camera at their senior living residence who were likely watching because Jackie had been a neighbor to them.

Back to Jesus’ parable. The third servant did nothing with the single bag of gold, maybe thinking, “What can I do with this small lot given to me?” Jackie, given her medical limitations, could easily have said, “What can I do with the lot given me.” She did not.

Here’s the fascinating part of the parable. The master’s response to the two servants who put their money to work was exactly the same:

The master replied, “Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!”

If I understand the intent of Jesus’ story, I think we can assume that God’s words of welcome to Mary Magdalene, St. Augustine, Martin Luther, Mother Theresa, Jimmy Carter, and Jackie Chattopadhyay were all essentially the same:

Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things. Come and share your master’s happiness!

Happy New Year

Several years ago, I thought an interesting exercise would be a read through the Apostle Paul’s Epistles in the order in which they were written, a period of about 15-20 years. I thought it would be beneficial to get a sense of Paul’s core teachings and understand how his theology developed through the years. I began the experience with 1 Thessalonians, thought to be one of his first letters. Below is Eugene Peterson’s introduction to the Thessalonian letters in The Message paraphrase. It seems an appropriate read as we move into a new year…

The way we conceive the future sculpts the present, gives contour and tone to nearly every action and thought through the day. If our sense of future is weak, we live listlessly. Much emotional and mental illness and most suicides occur among men and women who feel that they “have no future.”

The Christian faith has always been characterized by a strong and focused sense of future, with belief in the Second Coming of Jesus as the most distinctive detail. From the day Jesus ascended into heaven, his followers lived in expectancy of his return. He told them he was coming back. They believed he was coming back. They continue to believe it. For Christians, it is the most important thing to know and believe about the future.

The practical effect of this belief is to charge each moment of the present with hope. For if the future is dominated by the coming again of Jesus, there is little room left on the screen for projecting our anxieties and fantasies. It takes the clutter out of our lives. We’re far more free to respond spontaneously to the freedom of God.

All the same, the belief can be misconceived so that it results in paralyzing fear for some, shiftless indolence in others. Paul’s two letters to the Christians in Thessalonica, among much else, correct such debilitating misconceptions, prodding us to continue to live forward in taut and joyful expectancy for what God will do next in Jesus.

May you live 2025 in taut and joyful expectancy!

Merry Christmas!

The following was written a decade or so ago by Jim Wallis, the founder and editor of Sojourners magazine. I read it periodically as a reminder of the significance of what we celebrate today in the Western world (and January 7th in Eastern traditions). This perfectly captures the essence of what we celebrate each Christmas…

What is Christmas? It is the celebration of the Incarnation, God’s becoming flesh — human — and entering into history in the form of a vulnerable baby born to a poor, teenage mother in a dirty animal stall. Simply amazing. That Mary was homeless at the time, a member of a people oppressed by the imperial power of an occupied country whose local political leader, Herod, was so threatened by the baby’s birth that he killed countless children in a vain attempt to destroy the Christ child, all adds compelling historical and political context to the Advent season.

The theological claim that sets Christianity apart from any other faith tradition is the Incarnation. God has come into the world to save us. God became like us to bring us back to God and show us what it means to be truly human.

That is the meaning of the Incarnation. That is the reason for the season.

In Jesus Christ, God hits the streets.

It is theologically and spiritually significant that the Incarnation came to our poorest streets. That Jesus was born poor, later announces his mission at Nazareth as “bringing good news to the poor,” and finally tells us that how we treat “the least of these” is his measure of how we treat him and how he will judge us as the Son of God, radically defines the social context and meaning of the Incarnation of God in Christ. And it clearly reveals the real meaning of Christmas.

The other explicit message of the Incarnation is that Jesus the Christ’s arrival will mean “peace on earth, good will toward men.” He is “the mighty God, the everlasting Father, and the Prince of Peace.” Jesus later calls on his disciples to turn the other cheek, practice humility, walk the extra mile, put away their swords, love their neighbors — and even their enemies — and says that in his kingdom, it is the peacemakers who will be called the children of God. Christ will end our warring ways, bringing reconciliation to God and to one another.

Emmanuel – God with us!